Ghostly Touches
by coldqueen
Summary: After stopping the explosion, Claire has an encounter of the invisible kind. PAIRECEST


Claire Bennet used to be a party girl; the kind of teenager mothers warn their sons about. Sneaking out of the house, riding all over the city with her cheerleading friends, flirting with any cute guy that passed her way. The epitome of cheerleader perfection; perky, flirtatious, energetic blonde with little to no worries in the world.

That'd all changed when she'd discovered she was invulnerable.

Claire smiled as she slipped to the edge of the "Thank God We're Not All Dead" party that various strangers and friends were throwing. From there, she had a perfect view of everyone mingling and comparing abilities. In the center of the melee, Nathan was being his usual charismatic self, charming everyone around him even while his eyes kept slipping over to stare at a certain blonde. Since there were only two blondes at the party, let's be clear that it wasn't Claire he was sexing up with his eyes.

Said blonde, a she-hulk with a husband and child, was trying to ignore Nathan even as her eyes kept sneaking at him. Every few minutes, they would look at the right time and sparks would fly. Both D.L. and Heidi were ignoring it, but Claire had a feeling that it wouldn't be for long. Even now D.L. was sliding his arm around Niki's waist, forcing her to look at him and away from Nathan. Heidi, the consummate politician's wife, did nothing so obvious, instead preferring to ask Nathan to move her wheelchair to a table, and thus farther away from his one-night-stand.

Hiro and Ando of course followed, still trying to get Nathan to demonstrate his abilities. They'd so far convinced D.L., Micah, Parkman, and Claude to display their's, though Claude never actually reappeared. Hopefully from the way Peter appeared to be talking to a wall, he was still around. Claire avoided their corner of the party, moving in the opposite direction in what she hoped wasn't an obvious way. Peter tended to arouse feelings in her she wasn't comfortable with.

She really shouldn't have even thought the word 'arouse', because now her thoughts were back in the gutter.

With a grimace, Claire stepped back Parkman, fully intent on sneaking out of the impromptu gathering without anyone noticing. She froze when she felt his large and authorative hand on her arm, keeping her from moving past. Once a cop, always a cop, Claire thought as she studied his hard face as it stared down at her. "Claire, are you alright? I'm picking up some turbulent thoughts."

She pulled her arm from his hand, struggling not to sneer while she tried to smile. "I'm fine. I just wanted a shower." She gestured to her blood-soaked shirt, but for once it wasn't her's. The battle to stop Sylar had been a violent one and several civilians had been caught in the crossfire.

Parkman nodded, absently brushing one of her blonde curls from her forehead and smiling. "You've got a headache too. You should take something."

"I'm a healer, it'll go away soon."

"From you, maybe, it'll stick with me," he said with a laugh, already turning from her to search out Mohinder, eager to discuss ways to harness his own abilities. Mohinder had quickly become the most popular person at the party, everyone jockeying for a minute of the scientist's time. Claire gratefully slipped into the shadows, not noticing that she was being observed.

Peter watched her go before turning back to Claude, still very invisible and restraining the urge to flee. "I know you don't like people, but try to mingle. These are your people."

Claude scoffed. "These aren't my people. I don't have people, and I'm happy with that. I came back for my pigeons."

Peter laughed, slicking back his overly long bangs with a careless hand. "Then why bother coming to help me with Sylar?"

Claude laughed. "He killed one of my pigeons. I didn't appreciate." Claude nodded to the now out-of-sight Claire. "Who was she?"

Peter knew instantly who Claude was referring to. "My niece Claire."

Claude's eyebrows hit his receding hairline with shock. "You didn't look at her like she was your niece."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

Peter shook his head, unconsciously turning invisible as he focused on his pseudo-mentor/friend. "I don't."

"Well," Claude said with a snide smile, "if you truly don't know what I'm talking about you won't mind if I go and keep her company." An innocuous sentence, but something in the innuendo had Peter's jaw clenching.

"Don't even."

He grinned cheekily. "Don't what?"

"Don't go near her."

"That's not a very Uncle-like tone you're taking with me, Mr. Petrelli."

Peter in a burst of speed had slammed Claude against the wall, his hand at his throat. "Stop playing, Claude."

"Alright, alright!" Claude said with a grin and a wheezing voice, cracking his neck as Peter let him go. "Sheesh, no sense of humor."

Peter glared before moving away from his friend, wincing because deep inside he knew the man was right. Peter didn't feel any "family" emotions toward Claire. What he felt was both deeper and more intimate than that, and had started long before she'd come to New York and they'd discovered their relation.

Indeed, this connection between them had started weeks ago, back in Odessa, Texas, when he'd searched for the cheerleader of Isaac's paintings and his future. He'd found her, and a whole lot more that night. Their eyes had met at one point, after he'd fallen off the gym and broken most bones in his body. She'd run to his side, worried for him in the face of a serial killer hunting her, ignoring any threat to herself. The closer she'd come to him, the faster his body had healed. When she'd stooped and touched his hand, an almost bright light-like feeling had burst inside him, clearing his head of the pain that'd clouded it just enough for him to realize that this beautiful angel was at his side.

Even as she sobbed and told him she was going for help, he felt her slipping away. It would be days before he'd see her again, for a brief few minutes in that cell. By then she'd taken a starring role in several of his dreams, and continued to despite many attempts to banish her. He'd tried replacing her dream-self with Simone, and that hadn't worked. He'd tried not dreaming at all, and that hadn't worked.

Just as Peter had been succumbing to his (what he considered then to be) dirty thoughts about a girl almost ten years his junior...he finds out that not only is she younger than him, she's his niece.

This made for some very interesting hours of self-contemplation.

Side-stepping a laughing Ted Sprague (who looked healthier now than he had in days), Peter decided to skip out on the rest of the party. He'd taken the hardest beating at Sylar's hands and even with Claire's healing abilities, he was sore in places. Not to mention these oh-so-happy people around him were becoming increasingly irritating. The laughing and the touching and the joy; it made Peter a little nauseous to be honest.

The inside of the Petrelli Manor was blissfully silent and a good deal cooler. Unconsciously retracing the steps Claire had followed just minutes before, he quickly arrived at the opposite side of the house, and far away from the echoing noise of revelry. Even as he started up the stairs, Peter could see a sliver of light slicing down the hallway above and down the top stairs.

Claire hadn't shut her door completely, and a small hint of music slipped out just as easily as the light. Despite his excuses for leaving the party, Peter found himself turning to her door and pulling it open. Unbeknownst to him, as he'd been silently reflecting on his conversation with Claude as he'd walked the length of the house, he was still quite invisible.

He also remained very silent as a half-dressed Claire walked out of the attached bathroom.

She looked delicious, was his first thought, frozen as he was at the doorframe.

She'd unbuttoned her bloody shirt but hadn't removed it, leaving the dark red-stained button-up shirt to frame her white-lace encased breasts. Her skin looked golden next to the pure color of her undergarment. She sighed deeply, her breasts rising so that to Peter they seemed almost ready to be free of the entrapment; his palms sweated and itched in the same moment so irresistible was the urge to touch her. He started to step back, to apologize and leave quickly, because this was wrong. He wasn't supposed to feel this way, to want her sexually.

Then she looked in his direction, and instead of screaming like she might have normally, she merely started unbuttoning her jeans and walking towards him. She didn't look at him as she did, like she would've if this was one of his dreams. No, she looked through him, and Peter realized with a jump that she couldn't see him. Such was the surprise that he had to struggle to remain unseen.

Peter found that he couldn't breathe. She passed within inches of him, her sweet vanilla scent entering his senses and blinding him in pure lust for vital seconds. His route of escape was now cut off. She'd shut the door and was already heading back for the bathroom. He could've used D.L.'s ability and just walked through the door, but really, do we think he's thinking of leaving anymore?

No, he's standing there, watching her slowly push her jeans down those slim and just as golden legs, revealing matching panties with a lace trim that begs to be imprinted onto his hands. He takes precious steps closer to her, feeling the air in the room move with his passing and knowing that he doesn't care if she hears his steps because just once he wants to be close to her, to feel her warmth on his skin, to taste her breath on his tongue.

She steps into the bathroom, intent on a nice long hot shower to wash the day's battle away when she first feels it. The slide of eyes on her bare back making her shiver in what can only be anticipation, but when she turns no one is there. Claire fights back disappointment, and without looking turned on the hot water. She pushed down her feelings of loneliness and turned to the mirror, wiping the fog that had appeared there within seconds from the intense hot water of the shower. As she stared into the mirror, for a second she thought she saw something in the steam behind her, the brief outline of a face. A familiar face at that, one she'd seen in her dreams more than once.

With a smile, she struggled to reach her bra clasp behind her, struggling because in the sudden heat of the room her skin had become clammy and hard to slide her hands up. Playing off a hunch, a delightful hunch that made things inside her clench in anticipation, Claire stared at the spot where she'd thought she'd seen his face. "Undo my bra?"

She could almost hear him choking on his breath, just as easily as she imagined him blushing.

She didn't know he was really there, but she wanted him to be.

She didn't expect him to actually do as she'd asked, and boy, was she surprised.

Even as she sighed and gave up hope a small tickle of air ruffled the hair just over her ear and even in the steam she could feel his body warmth mere inches behind her. He was still invisible to her eyes, so she closed them and prayed he'd touch her.

Just once.

Acting on her hope, she slid her hands under the heavy weight of her hair, lifting it off her bare back so that he could easily reach the catch. Peter slid his invisible fingers up her back, smiling as he could clearly see the shivers his caress evoked. He caught the back of her bra, not undoing it but using it to pull her back into his arms, sliding his hands up her arms to where she held that riot of curls she called hair. With a sigh, she let him grasp her wrists, pulling them down so that together they entwined their arms in front of her chest.

If not for her being disrobed, it might have been an innocent hug, between niece and uncle.

It wasn't, though, nowhere near it. Grasping her two wrists in one hand, Peter used the other to slide one her bra straps down, nibbling at her neck and shoulder even as he pulled at her bra. With a sigh, she felt his tongue on her skin and realized it was better than she'd thought it could be. She pulled at his hold on her arms, wanting to touch him finally, wanting to pull him closer than close and making sure she never forgot his touch.

Peter laughed as she did, his very audible voice echoing in the small room. He released her wrists only to slide his hands up her ribcage and under her bra, finally getting his hands on her soft breasts, squeezing in what can only be described as delight. She moaned and arched into his hands, rubbing against him felinely as she tried to make him become visible. She wanted to see his face as he touched. To watch his brown eyes shine at her, to compare the color of his paler skin to her darker.

And maybe, just maybe, to watch him slide in and out of her in complete unity.

Tossing her head back into his shoulder, she turned just enough to look where his face should've been, and with a sob realized he still didn't want to be seen. Was it disgust? With her, with what they were doing? Didn't he realize that resisting had gotten them nothing? That something that felt so right couldn't be as wrong as the world thought? It made all the difference that they both wanted it.

She pleaded with him through the mirror, trying to put into words what she felt but it all seemed so hopeless that all that came from her mouth was, "Please, Peter?" asked in a heart-clenching request.

He could do nothing but grant what she wanted.

Angling his face so that he could press his cheek to her's, they stared together into the mirror as he pushed Claude's gift away and concentrated on the here and now. Dark hair became visible as it mixed with her blonde, and together they compared his face to her's.

They didn't look related, not even distantly. If they walked down the street together, no one would think it at all.

She turned, forcing his hands to release her, and faced him. She slipped her fingers into his hair, gripping it and pulling at it until their faces were mere inches from one another. She stared at him, suddenly insecure in the face of getting just what she wanted. So she let him do the getting.

Peter slid his own hands into her hair, pulling it back sharply enough to make her gasp, baring her neck for the taking. He nipped, sucked, and licked his way from her neck to her earlobe, sliding his free hand down her side to her thigh, pulling it up so that they fit together, groin to groin, chest to chest. Leaning against the bathroom counter, he rubbed his jeans-encased hips against her damn-near-bare ones and grinned when she moaned. Releasing her hair, he grabbed her other thigh, forcing her to wrap her arms around his shoulders for balance as he lifted her, creating a vee for which he fit and placing her on the counter.

She left her arms around him, biting at his chin and demanding he kiss her, for which he was glad to. Their lips met in a loud smack, each of them determined to taste and savor this because it might be all they had. Peter thrust his tongue into Claire's mouth, mimicking another type of thrusting he wanted to do very badly. They pushed together, trying to get closer and to touch all they could.

He pulled at her bra, finally undoing it and pulling it away, not noticing that Claire had slid her hands under his own t-shirt, pushing it up and sliding hard little nails down his chest with glee. They laughed together as Peter pulled away to remove it, instantly coming together again if possible hotter than before. He slid a hand through her hair, following it down to where it ended near past her waist and pulling her to his chest. With a groan, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her off the counter and into his arms where she wrapped her legs around him. Together, they fell into the bathroom door, causing a loud bang that they didn't hear.

Stumbling, laughing, kissing, and touching, they made their way to the bed, where he dropped her unceremoniously. She slid to her elbows, watching unselfconsciously as he started to remove his jeans. He froze in his movements, so bewitched by the sight of her laying there, almost bare and staring at him so hungrily and without patience. He wanted to pull her close, to fuck her hard and rough until she was screaming from the pleasure of it and begging him to finish it. Or maybe, it was that he wanted her to beg him to stop? Then he could force her to realize that only he could give this to her, only he was allowed to touch her, to see her this way.

She growled from his lack of progress and slid to the edge of the bed, using his belt to pull him between her legs. She was at just the right height to lick his stomach, and she delighted in the sudden jerk of tension from doing so. Even as she kissed his bellybutton, she was undoing his belt and the snap of his jeans. So eager for the sight of his sex was she, that she barely noticed when he grabbed her hands to stop her from pushing down his jeans.

He grinned and kissed her softly. "You keep at it like that and this'll be over before it starts."

"I can't wait anymore, Peter!"

"You don't have to," he assured her stepping away to push down his pants himself. His briefs went with them and as he stood before her completely naked and aroused to the point of pain he couldn't remember why he put this off in the first place.

Claire smiled at him and lifted her hips to take off the only thing she still wore. Again, he stopped her, pulling her hands away so that he could do it himself.

Slowly, to torture himself and her, he kneeled and pulled at them. Scraping his nails down the sides of her thighs, her sweet cunt came into sight and he almost came right then and there. With a clenched jaw, he slid his rough palms down her legs, freeing her of the entanglement. Within seconds, he stood again, still holding her ankles. He rubbed at them for a second before moving to her knees, parting them so that he could see all of her.

With a groan, he grabbed the pillows of nearby and lifted her by the legs so he could slide them under her hips. There, just the perfect height that they would fit together perfectly, and he couldn't wait any longer.

Claire could only gasp as Peter positioned himself at the apex of her legs, using his immense strength to hold her in place. He teased her for a moment, with an evil grin, brushing the head of his penis up and down her overly-sensitive genitalia. She tossed her head side to side and fisted the sheets in her hands, suppressing a scream she knew was coming.

He thrust into her in one sharp movement, taking her innocence and sealing their fates. She screamed, twisting under him and not knowing why she suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to move. Peter wanted to take it slower, knowing that it was her first time, but with every twitch and roll of her hips she took away more of his control.

Finally, he could take no more and he started to withdraw, eliciting a small scream and a moan of "No!" from Claire. She tightened her legs and the muscles inside her, trying to keep him from going, only to find that he was moving again.

Peter held her hips, trying to keep her from moving too much as he slowly pushed in and pulled out. She was so tight and warm that his control was very fragile, if existent at all.

Soon, she had the rhythm and together they rose and fell together. Sweat glistening on their skin as he thrust into her and she opened her legs wider for each return. Faster and faster they moved, each time getting harder and louder. She moaned and he grit his teeth, struggling to make it last, to make a mark on her soul that she'd never forget but every time he saw her flushed face and loving eyes, it was he who became branded.

Yanking at the pillows beneath her, Peter pulled her to the floor with him, throwing himself on top of her as he pounded his love and adoration into her, using their sex to tell her things he could never repeat aloud. She gripped him inside her as that strange clenching inside her suddenly released. Waves and waves of what can only be called euphoria swept through her, causing her to lose all control of her limbs she might have had. Her legs slid from around his hips to the floor, and her arms fell above her head. Her head still spun as she was driven higher and higher and with a small scream quickly muffled by his mouth Claire climaxed, pushing herself against him in desperation.

Peter felt her beneath him, but was so far gone himself he could no more stop moving than spontaneously combust. With each new thrust, he pushed further and further into his own personal hell, imprinting every touch and caress on his memory so that he could relive this every night for the rest of his life. As the ripples of her climax echoed out inside her, he could feel his body clenching for the release. He couldn't see past her eyes, couldn't feel past her skin, and with a hoarse shout he came, pushing his very essence into her, claiming her as his even knowing if he did he'd never be able to let her go.

They kept moving, coming together even as they emptied themselves, straining to make it last even as time stopped and they became one person.

In the minutes that came after, they remained locked together on the carpet, trying to find breath that didn't exist for either of them anymore.

He slid to the side, still unwilling to let her go, pulling her on top of him and causing a small moan to escape her mouth. She laid her head on his chest, comforted by the pounding of his heart she found there.

In silence, they let their fingers do the talking, long lingering strokes and brief kisses that made one thing very clear to them, though it was Claire that spoke it.

"It'll never be enough."

"No."

"What are we going to do?"

Peter sighed, brushing a sweaty curl out of her eyes and tightening the grip his arms had on her. "I don't know. I hear Paris is nice this time of year."

She frowned. "I thought we didn't want me to go to Paris."

"...I'll go with you. No one knows us there."

It made perfect sense. A new life in a new place where they could be whatever they wanted to be.

"I love you, Peter."

"I love you, Claire."

Together.


End file.
